


We Are Here And Elsewhere

by Trashforstuckyandgot



Series: Pray The Sun Will Rise [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Song of Ice and Fire References, Aegon VI Targaryen and Jon Snow are Siblings, Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Arthur Dayne Lives, Ashara Dayne Lives, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, House Baratheon, House Martell, House Targaryen, House Velaryon, How Do I Tag, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, King Rhaegar Targaryen, Kingsguard, Lyanna Stark Lives, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Betrayal, Queen Elia Martell, Queen Lyanna Stark, Rhaegar Targaryen Lives, Rhaella Targaryen Lives, Targaryen Restoration, Tension, rhaenys targaryen-centric, viserys is not mad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashforstuckyandgot/pseuds/Trashforstuckyandgot
Summary: “I kept turning around my first year in Dorne, half-expecting to see you there with a wry smile upon your lips, telling me to not be so bloody daft.”“You did?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face like a star on a clear eve.“I did,” he whispered, voice drowsy with sleep and something mournful, “But you weren’t there.”
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen & Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Aegon VI Targaryen/Daenerys Targaryen, Arianne Martell/Jon Snow, Bonifer Hasty/Rhaella Targaryen, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Jaime Lannister/Elia Martell, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Renly Baratheon/Original Female Character(s), Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia)/Viserys Targaryen
Series: Pray The Sun Will Rise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969486
Comments: 19
Kudos: 73





	We Are Here And Elsewhere

**Author's Note:**

> When I said I was thinking about writing a Rhaenys POV continuation to PTSWR, not even I expected to have it out this soon. Although, with that said, I did write most of this chapter months ago when the idea first struck me. 
> 
> This won't be nearly as long as PTSWR but honestly, there's not enough of this pairing and I wanted to add my ten cents (five comes from ANRFTW) 
> 
> Also I'm not reallys sure about the title of this story, so; beware, it might change. I want to add that this may be a part of a series (if you read PTSWR you will understand many more references and the story as a whole but this CAN be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> Anyway, I won't keep you.  
> Hope you like it.  
> Until next time,  
> <3
> 
> Don't forget to leave a kudos if you're enjoying the story and drop a comment down below.

“Not the blue one,” she told Daenerys who was shifting through the many gowns of Princess Rhaenys’s closet, “Viserys likes purple more.”

“You are very _concerned_ with what Viserys would like,” her aunt grumbled, picking out a purple gown that Lady Ashara had commissioned Rhaenys for her six-and-tenth nameday, seven moons prior. 

“Do not be like that, Dany,” Rhaenys sighed, moving to the young girl and stroking her Targaryen hair. _Such a beauty,_ Rhaenys thought, _only two-and-ten but lovelier than all of the court._ Though Princess Daenerys was small of stature and delicately shaped, Rhaenys had inherited her father’s height, standing at least six inches taller than her mother, who was two inches or so shorter than Dany herself, “He has been away for five years, it is only fitting that we give him a proper welcome, filled with all that which he is fond of.” 

Her uncle had been away in Dorne for several years, serving as her other uncle Oberyn’s squire and then continued journeying through the Free Cities, making stops in Lys, Tyrosh and Braavos. The princess had missed him gravely, they’d always been so close as children, up to the very day he left. _We’ve written to each other and he has told me of his exploits and adventures but it is not quite the same._ She longed for the comfort of his embrace, that wide grin and the way he always seemed to know her more than she knew herself. 

_Yet, he is returned today,_ to King’s Landing and everyone was terribly excited regarding that prospect. Her own mother, Queen Elia was running around fussing, making sure that everything would be perfect for the lost prince. The king, Rhaenys’s father also seemed in great spirits, observing the preparations for the large feast later that eve. _I wonder how Viserys will have changed._ Would he still be the uncle she knew from all those years ago? 

The reason as to why her uncle had left in the first place, was that King Rhaegar had thought it apt to allow the prince to become more cultured. _Besides, he always loved training with Oberyn and mother was the one who proposed it._ Viserys had not been opposed toward it, but rather seemed excited. He was always adventurous, yet there was an aspect to her uncle that reminded the princess so much of her uncle Doran. Calm and calculating. 

“You are correct, Rhae. I did not mean to cause offence,” Dany mumbled sheepishly, causing Rhaenys to embrace her aunt. 

“You did not.” Princess Rhaenys had much of the gentle nature belonging to her mother. It took quite a lot to rile her, but once the dragon was woken, she was a terrible sight to behold. Destructive in the height of her fury, she truly was. 

“Alright,” her aunt mumbled, untangling herself from the embrace and thrusting the pale, lavender gown into Rhaenys’s arms, “Try it on. I am sure you will look even lovelier than the sun and moon combined, donning it. But then again, you already do.” 

“It seems we have a lickspittle on our hands, would you not say, Balerion?” she giggled and asked the _very_ old cat, laying in a comfortable basket on the other side of the room, watching his kittens play. 

“That cat is so dreadfully old, I wonder how he does it,” Dany chuckled, moving to pet the cat as Rhaenys embarked upon the art of donning a gown, which took much practice and even more patience. 

“I wonder how my mother did it,” the older princess snorted, “It cannot have been easy with Egg and Rys.”

“You gave her more grief than those two combined,” Dany laughed, picking up one of the kittens who had inherited Balerion’s dark coloring and vivid, orange eyes, “Always sneaking out of your chambers to visit Viserys and I.”

“Hm,” she pondered, stepping into the gown, “You may be correct. Egg was always the dutiful son in front of mother and Naerys truly was simply… Obedient. Then there was I,” she smiled wryly.

“Do not jest and think yourself some rebel,” her aunt tittered, “You were the most difficult of the three but that is not saying much. All of my good-sister’s children were rather calm and gentle, much like Elia herself.” 

“Alright, enough of your demeaning statements. I was a pioneer, a visionary,” Rhaenys sighed dramatically, _“And_ I need you to tie my laces.” 

“Pioneer yourself a way to tie your own laces, then,” the young princess grumbled under her breath.

“What?” Princess Rhaenys asked.

“Nothing,” Dany smiled sweetly, duly beginning to tie the lavender laces. 

***

“Welcome home, brother,” the king welcomed the lost prince, in front of the entire court, “Your presence has been duly missed.” 

“It does feel pleasant to be back, Your Grace,” Viserys replied, clapping his older brother on the back with a bright grin. After that; it was Elia and Rhaella’s turn to greet him, both women fussing over the boy who had returned a man, as if he were still the four-and-ten year old prince who had left. 

“Brother,” Dany greeted, standing next to Princess Naerys, who was in turn standing next to Rhaenys, “It has been too long.” 

“Indeed it has, little Dany,” the man grinned, embracing his only sister tightly, “And what a fair sight you are.” 

Still slightly uncomfortable with the attention that being beautiful had gifted her with, Princess Daenerys simply muttered a courtesy and flushed prettily, the red giving her a healthy glow. Then, it was Naerys’s turn. _She was so young when he left, only a girl of four._

“You are still little,” the prince told the girl with a fond smile, “But not quite as little as you were the last time I laid my eyes upon you. Now; you are at least coherent in your mind.” 

“Welcome back, uncle,” Naerys replied sweetly, accepting his quick embrace and kiss upon her cheek, “I look forward to making your acquaintance now that I am, in your words, at least coherent in my mind.” 

“Witty,” he chuckled with a slight, fond shake of his head, “I assume we have none other than your lovely mother to thank for that. My brother was ever the one to be dry of humor,” he shot the king a quick glance. Rhaegar being in what appeared to be a deep conversation with Elia, “But do not tell him I said that.” the young girl giggled a lovely sound at that, and then he was in front of Rhaenys.

 _Gods,_ was all she could think. Six years it had been since they last laid eyes upon each other and it was obvious that the prince was not the boy he had once been. No, this was a man in front of her; beautiful in the way that the Valyrian Gods were depicted to be. His hair was silver with streaks of pure gold, which she assumed was because it had paled underneath the sun of both Dorne and the Free Cities. 

She could scarcely breathe when looking upon him. His skin was a tanned beige, making those familiar, lilac eyes glitter even further and he had grown taller, an inch or so away from surpassing the king himself. And his face, Gods, singers could write songs of that beauty, from the straight nose to his full lips and strong jaw. But it was not that which made him unworldly to Rhaenys, it was the fact that he still harbored that softness in his eyes, which bore proof of his tender heart. 

“Uncle,” she smiled tentatively, wondering what he made of her, after all these years. Rhaenys Targaryen had never wished to be beautiful more than she did in that moment. It was as if all she wanted was his approval, for some strange reason it mattered tremendously. But before the Targaryen princess had any time to react, she felt his arms around her, tight and warm-- comforting like nothing else.

“My sweet Rhae,” he whispered against her hair, warm hands on her back, comfortingly stroking, “You have no idea how much I have missed you. Suddenly; the princess felt the strange urge to weep, her lavender eyes filling with tears as he pulled away, one or two spilling from her cheek. Rhaenys cursed the Gods for making her such a blubbering mess, but the prince cupped her face and wiped each one away with his thumb. 

“I have missed you too, uncle,” she replied with a watery smile, hoping her voice conveyed all the warmth of a thousand burning stars. _I wish we could get away from the court,_ the princess thought hopelessly, wanting to forgo all protocol and duties. She wanted to be rid of the part that entailed playing a future queen, in favor of spending time with her lost uncle, who most like had the most vivid of stories to entertain her with. 

“Do not weep,” he whispered tenderly, “You are far too beautiful to be so sad and this is meant to be quite a joyous occasion.” 

“Alright,” the young woman grinned despite herself, “I’m pleased you are back, _stupid,”_ she said the last part in a whisper, not quite brave enough to wryly admonish her uncle in public. _Mother would not let me hear the end of it._

“How dare you?” he chuckled, moving his hand to her shoulder, “Be careful, lest I tattle to your mother and father.” 

“Do so and I shall _never_ let you live it down,” she sighed dramatically, earning a rolling of the prince’s lilac eyes.

“Are you done yet or shall the rest of us simply retire and allow the two of you all the privacy you need to reacquaint yourselves with each other?” Aegon asked dramatically, earning a chuckle from Aemon who was to turn four-and-ten by the end of the year.

“Are you so eager to feel my warm touch, nephew,” Viserys asked, grinning and moving toward the future king, clapping his back in a quick embrace. Aegon might only have been five-and-ten years of age, but he was almost as tall as his uncle, though still retaining the leanness of youth, whereas Viserys was every inch a true man where Rhaenys was concerned-- lean and hard and beautiful. _I suppose Aegon will catch up, there is time still._

“You were away for too long,” she heard her brother tell the lost prince, “No one jests quite like you, uncle.” 

“And no one laughs at my depraved jests quite like you, nephew,” Viserys grinned, then moving to greet Aemon. 

“I’ve spent quite a few years in the company of your future bride,” he told the tall boy who had the look of his mother, “She is a feisty woman. I am sure your hands will be quite full with that one.” 

“I’ve heard she is clever and beautiful,” Prince Aemon replied after having embraced his uncle, “I wager I will be quite lucky, hands full or not.” 

“Clever, beautiful and cunning,” Viserys nodded in agreement, “She will suit you well, nephew.” 

“Was Dorne beautiful?” the dark-brown haired Targaryen asked, grey eyes glazed with the fog of imagination.

“Oh, yes,” the silver-haired prince replied, beaming as he recollected it, “If one can adjust to the initial shock of the climate, it is the most wondrous place. The women are like no other you have ever come upon; clever, witty and willowy creatures and the cuisine is remarkable, although quite spicy. I felt everything more deeply in Dorne, I wager you will, too.” Somehow, the notion of Viserys speaking of women both endeared and confused Rhaenys, for it made her slightly peeved. She had spent all her life being the star of Viserys’s eyes. Now; he had found other constellations. 

“Will you tell me more of it?” the Northern Targaryen inquired, “So that I will be prepared.” 

“Of course,” Viserys replied smoothly, “But that shall have to be at the feast. Now; I fear I will retire to my own chambers and have a long, cooling bath. Travelling is so _dreary,_ do you not think?” 

*** 

The feast was immensely large and Prince Viserys was ever the center of attention, seated by King Rhaegar’s side, with Aegon to his side. Rhaenys was seated two seats away from her uncle, with Dany and Lady Laena by her side. Naerys had retired early on Queen Elia’s orders, for the young girl had a headache. 

“He is quite dreamy, to be sure,” Lady Laena admitted with a smile that could put the sun to shame. She had grown to be a Valyrian beauty, with golden hair and the dark, plum eyes of her Velaryon father. 

“You are to be wed in a few months time,” Princess Rhaenys rolled her lavender eyes, absentmindedly toying with the amethysts adorning her neck. She had changed into a deep purple gown for the occasion and had received many a compliment for it. However; they all sounded the same after a few times. Everyone saw her beauty, but not the fire beneath. Nor did she think they would care to. _I am a woman, after all. I must sit still and look pretty, otherwise the prickly, old men will grow wroth._

“I am,” the lady admitted, having recently turned six-and-ten, “But that does not mean I cannot express a fondness for the masterpiece that is Prince Viserys.” 

“I wonder what Ser Renly would say to that,” she nodded toward the young man who was three years the lady’s senior. The third-born son of Storm’s End was laughing alongside his companions, a sight to see, to be sure. With his dark hair and stormy, blue eyes who could look green on occasion. 

“I suspect he would say the same,” Lady Laena winked, the both of them having discussed her betrothed’s… more intricate tastes on several occasions. _All I wish for her is happiness and I hope he will give it to her, even if he would rather a man in his bed than a woman,_ “My husband-to-be has refined tastes, as you know yourself.” At first; Lady Laena had been saddened by the fact that she was to wed a man who would not take to her. Then, the lady seemed to have made her peace with it, refusing to let a man dull her. 

_“He’ll have to give me children to care for,” the beautiful lady shrugged, ever the pragmatic woman, “After that; he can do as he likes. And I will, too.” There was a sweet slyness to Laena’s smile, which only furthered Rhaenys’s admiration for her dearest companion._

“Indeed,” Rhaenys took a sip of her Arbor Gold, idly eyeing Viserys and the way his shoulder-length hair framed his handsome face in delectable waves. 

Having gulped down her third, or perhaps fourth goblet of vintage, Laena groaned as she frowned beautifully, shaking her head, “No, it should be a _crime_ to be so handsome! I can scarcely take my eyes off him.” 

“You and every single other lady in this hall,” the princess swirled the golden liquid in her goblet, slightly dismayed.

“Are you _jealous?”_ Laena asked in a gasp, plum eyes glittering wickedly in the light. It was obvious to Rhaenys that her companion had consumed far too much of the vintages available, judging from the flush in her cheeks and lack of apprehension when speaking, “That every lady vies for your uncle’s attention and now you shall have to compete with them?”

“I compete with no one,” Rhaenys muttered, refusing to lower herself to the childish back-stabbing of the other ladies at court. _For a man?_ She wanted to scoff, even if it was her dear Viserys, shaming herself for a man was something the princess was not inclined to do. 

“Of course you do not,” Laena leaned back into her seat, a serene smile playing upon her rosy lips, “You needn’t. You are the most beautiful and capable of all and you have had your uncle’s love since birth. The two of you share a bond in which the witches of this court can only dream, sweet Rhae.” Those words succeeded in warming the Targaryen’s heart, for her friend was ever the kind woman. Although they had their moments of vexation with each other, the two would always rekindle quickly.

“I think perhaps it is time to retire to bed, do you not think?” she asked her lady-in-waiting, who in turn giggled and nodded. 

“Perhaps,” Laena nodded, “While I can still climb the stairs.” 

Thus; Rhaenys asked for leave to retire from the king, Rhaegar granting it with a kind smile. On occasion; the princess did not know what to feel when it came to her father. She loved him so terribly, yet a dark part of her almost… not hated but it disliked him strongly. She had been two-and-ten when the entirety of the story was told to her and she could not look her father in the eye for a year’s turn. It had been her mother, the gentle rose of Dorne who had told Rhaenys to calm her heart. 

_“Your father… He is a strange man, to be sure,” The Dornish queen whispered, stroking Rhaenys’s hair as the girl was weeping in her lap, “But one thing I have never doubted is the love he bears for all his children.”_

_“He left you to die, mother,” she let out a wheezing sound, rising to look at her mother with tearful, lavender eyes that were too beautiful to be filled to the brim with such pain, “He left us here to die. For her.” A strange distaste for everything Queen Lyanna did or said had begun gnawing on Rhaenys, to such extent that she on occasion; would be quite cruel and rude toward her brother Aemon, as well._

_“For those crazed prophecies, darling,” Elia Martell whispered soothingly, “And he has suffered for it, rest assured. You were too young to remember all of this, but it was not easy to rebuild the realm after your grandfather. The king also wears guilt heavy upon his heart, the kind that will never leave and it plagues him at night. I gave him grief for the pain he caused, life gave him grief for all the strife he caused. Has he paid his penance? Only the Gods can determine the answer of that but please, for me,” the Dornish queen continued tearfully, “Do not hate your father.”_

_“I don’t understand him, mother,” she whimpered, “He loves you and yet did that to you?”_

_“I do not understand your father either, my love,” her mother replied, kissing Rhaenys’s forehead tenderly, “But he loves us and we must hold on to that when in doubt. He is not the man he once was, thank the Gods. Duty has changed him, the prophecies changed him. Do not befoul your sweet heart with the poison of the past. It will kill you.”_

It was Ser Jaime who escorted the princess and her lady back to her chambers, shaking his head ruefully at the two. 

“I am surprised she has made it thus far,” the Lannister knight laughed and Rhaenys could see the appeal-- why her mother loved the man. _I think I must have always known…_ she would notice the way Queen Elia’s eyes would sparkle when Ser Jaime spoke, how they would soften at his smile. He must have been a breath of fresh air when her mother was drowning, and Rhaenys was infinitely grateful for that, especially knowing the way her father had betrayed her mother. 

But Rhaenys had never spoken on it, never breathed the words into existence, for they did not _need_ to be. The realm was prospering and so was the Dornish queen. _I do not know if father is aware,_ hells; she did not even know _if_ her analysis was correct, or if Ser Jaime and Elia Martell truly did love each other. But she could feel it in her heart and that was enough. Her mother’s happiness was enough, it would always be. 

“How do you manage being a knight of the Kingsguard, ser?” Laena asked suddenly, giggling through the empty halls as she stumbled and would have fallen, were it not for the Lannister knight taking hold of her arm in the last moment, chuckling. 

“What do you mean, My Lady?” he asked, vivid, emerald eyes shining with amusement as he raised an eyebrow at Rhaenys, who shook her head, immensely entertained by the scene unfolding. 

“I mean,” the honey-haired lady huffed, her delicate arms around ser Jaime’s left half, “You are too handsome to be a man sworn to celibacy,” she finished in a whine, “How dare you, truly?”

“How dare I serve my king?” he asked, laughing as they continued their stroll, not too far from Rhaenys’s chambers

“If you wish to put it like that,” the lady slurred, “Your wording, not mine.” 

“I am quite happy with my post, My Lady,” he told the young woman, entertained by her vigor. 

“I think I should like to wed you,” the lady smiled serenely, gazing up at Ser Jaime with a look like that of a love-smitten kitten, earning another chuckle from him. _One day, that mouth of yours will dig you a hole in the ground, Laena,_ the Targaryen princess thought wryly.

“You are to wed Ser Renly, he is both young and handsome,” Ser Jaime replied, green eyes still sparkling with amusement. 

“But you are every inch a man,” the lady groaned vivaciously, a blur of gold and pale blue in her gown, “Re-” _No, I must stop this before she starts spewing matters which are better left unearthed._

“-Now, now, Laena,” Rhaenys admonished, laughing a bit shrilly, “Perhaps you have expressed enough of your fondness for dear Ser Jaime. Leave some for the rest of the ladies.” 

“Yes, perhaps I should, should I not?” the lady nodded drunkenly, “Septa Amarys did tell me to be a humble and gracious lady. Of course I shall allow the rest of the ladies to make their declarations of love, as well. Mayhaps one will catch your heart and you will be relieved from your… celibate post.” Rhaenys was surprised that Laena could still stand, let alone articulate herself properly. _Mayhaps those arduous lessons with Septa Amarys were not for naught,_ she thought wryly. 

“I have all the love I could ever need, simply from maintaining this post,” he told the young lady with something hidden sparkling in his eyes, “There is no greater kiss than that of this duty.” 

_“Boring,”_ Lady Laena huffed, earning a chuckle from the man as he opened the door to Rhaenys’s chamber, leading the both of them inside. 

“Will you need assistance, shall I call for one of the maids?” 

“No, we will be alright from here,” Rhaenys smiled softly, giving the man a warm embrace and a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you, Jaime.” 

“Always, my little Rhaenys,” he told her fondly. The man was almost a second father to her, along with Ser Arthur Dayne. They had known her all her life and she had loved them for as long, as well. 

Then, he was gone and she turned to Laena, who was almost asleep on the great, wooden bed. 

“Come on,” Rhaenys told her friend, forcing the young woman to stand up as she began unlacing the bodice, having picked out their sleeping garments from the drawer, “You drank too much,” she admonished softly, somehow feeling very responsible for the young woman who was almost a year her junior. 

“The occasion called for it,” Lady Laena replied drunkenly as she slipped out of her gown and raised her arms for Rhaenys to help her donn a shift. 

“Indeed it did,” the princess admitted, smiling, “Now unlace my back, will you?” It ended up taking the honey-haired woman quite a few minutes to unlace the back of Rhaenys’s gown, but in the end; she succeeded and Rhaenys donned her of shift, then helping Laena slip underneath the covers, but the pale woman wrapped her arms tightly around Rhaenys, whispering, “I love you so much, Rhae,” and continuing, “I don’t want to leave you.” 

“I love you too,” the princess frowned, pulling away to stroke away a few honey-strands from the woman’s face, “And this is not the end. You will spend a few years in Driftmark but you will be called back to court, I promise. I will force my father’s hand or he will know the extent of my fury.” That comment made Lady Laena giggle as sweetly as summer, and a few minutes later; she was fast asleep. 

Yet once Rhaenys had laid down, she found that sleep refused to claim her. Perhaps the day had been too eventful; the excitement of Viserys returning being too much. But she yearned for how it was in the past; when she would sneak into his chambers and they’d spend a night in front of his window, simply speaking and gazing at the stars. Their hearts would always seem to be more open when there was no one awake to hear, but the nightbirds and their songs. They would speak of secret wishes and childish wants, she would tell him of how the crown did not really matter to her, and how she was scared she’d never be able to love Aegon in the way he’d deserve to be loved by his wife. One would almost call them too intricate thoughts for a girl of ten and a boy with four years on that.

There was a secret passage that led directly into both their chambers, which was how the Targaryen princess always succeeded in sneaking into her uncle’s chambers without being noticed by anyone. They had never told anyone, in fear of their only means of constant connection being terminated because of whims at court. Because as they grew older; the Red Keep would seek to separate them, for it was improper for a princess to be alone for longer periods of time with a male companion, be it her uncle or not. Everyone knew that the Targaryens had no reservations from bedding those. Even if she had only been a girl of ten. There was simply no trust from the septas or septons, nor the courtiers.

That passage had not been used in nigh upon six years and was located in her sitting-room, behind a painting of some ghastly bush. There laid a small, wooden door which she could still fit into and it led to a larger tunnel, which went straight into Viserys’s sitting-room. Perhaps the placement was done by chance and no one knew of the adjacent chambers, or perhaps someone with a kind heart had known and decided not to completely separate the uncle and niece who shared a bond beyond any mortal description. 

_It must have been built by Maegor The Cruel,_ Rhaenys pondered, fetching a candle and tying the robe tighter around her waist as she opened the wooden door, beginning to crawl through the short time it took, before it spread out. _I wonder what his purpose for it was. Perhaps to see one of his mistresses?_ The cruel king had been known to take many a wives, his mistresses had not been recorded, at least to her knowledge. 

The tunnel smelled of mildew and damp, but she could finally stand up and almost shrieked when she saw a cobweb with a spider dangling over her. _Do not be such a scaredy cat,_ she told herself, although increasing her speed tremendously. The tunnel never failed to make gooseprickles appear on her skin. When she was younger; she’d always force Viserys to accompany her, for it scared her terribly to be alone in that dark space. He would always agree, tightly squeezing her hand in reassurance when she would reach for his in the consuming void. The thought never occurred to her that maybe he was scared, too. 

She finally reached the end and twisted open the handle, accidentally knocking over the painting which covered the door-- the sound echoing in the silent chamber. _He is not here,_ she noted after having struggled out, carefully placing the painting where it belonged and deciding to enter the bedchamber in the mean-time. _There must be a fire burning in the hearth there._

Indeed there was, and she saw the flames glow orange, red and yellow in the dark, illuminating the shadowy corners. His bed was slightly larger than hers, adorned with pillows, and silken covers in the proper Targaryen colors. Absentmindedly, she walked to sit by the edge of the bed, placing the candle in her hand by the bedside, then stroking the sheets as she wondered what he had been up to all these years. Of course he had written; but it was still not the same. Not the same as hearing him repeat it with glittering eyes and a pleased vigor. 

She had decided to lay down and was half-asleep by the time her uncle stumbled inside, flushed with drink and the remnants of a pleasant eve. 

“Rhae?” he asked confusedly, moving closer to inspect the form on his bed, curled up like a cat, dressed in naught but her thin shift and robe, “You must be freezing,” she heard a distant whisper, opening her lavender eyes to see the prince frowning as he stroked the side of her face. 

“You took your sweet time,” she yawned, sitting up to face the kneeling man.

“I did not know there would be someone accompanying me,” he smiled softly, placing a quilt around her shoulders, “I expected a cold bed, not a goddess. Though I suppose miscalculations are easily made.” 

“I wanted to see you alone,” she mumbled, her lavender eyes made more intense by the flickering of the flames in the fireplace, “Without all the protocols and duties that I must abide by.” 

“That is not very queenly of you,” his lips quirked upward in half-a-smirk as she smiled softly. 

“I suppose not,” Rhaenys admitted, throwing her arms around him tightly. He smelled different now, there was something new and musky, slightly sweet but nonetheless; he smelled like home. And it almost made her wish to weep with relief. She never wanted to let him go, “But I am no queen.” 

“Not yet, no,” the words hung heavy between them, for Viserys knew all of her internal struggles when it came to the crown. Those she did not even tell her mother of. 

“Will you tell me your stories?” Rhaenys asked tentatively, still in his embrace-- feeling those strong arms around her upper body, there was a raw strength he possessed, yet he was so gentle about it. 

“Did you not listen when I told a few of them to Egg?” he asked amusedly, pulling away to stroke her hair.

“No,” she admitted, “I do not think I did.” 

“Well, then you shall have to wait until the morrow,” he murmured, rising and unbuttoning his doublet as Rhaenys watched with hitched breaths. It was not like she had not seen a man without a shirt before, but it was different with Viserys in a way she could not quite yet name. Once he was finished; she not only saw how fit he was, from the rigid muscles in his upper-body, but she noticed the littering of a few scars; making him appear more man than God, after all. 

“Lys,” he told her calmly, as her hand had reached out of its own accord, gently tracing a white line that covered a part of his side, “It is nothing noble. I made the mistake of angering a barkeep. I should learn how to keep my mouth shut on occasion. I jest far too often for my personal well-being.” 

“Did he not know you were a prince of the blood?” she asked breathlessly. 

“I do not think so. There’s quite a lot of men who resemble me in Lys and none of them are princes,” he replied with a wink, moving to join her atop the bed, pulling her closer to his chest as she laid upon her side, being able to see right out of the window, into the starlit eve, “Besides, I was not inclined upon notifying him.” 

“Why?” she asked, feeling equal parts confused about how his embrace felt more right than anything in the world. 

“Because it was my own fault,” he laughed slightly, “That and your uncle Oberyn would not be pleased if he heard I was running around behaving like a cunt and shielding myself on behalf of my princely title. If there was one thing I learned in Dorne, from your uncle; It was to take accountability for my actions and not run away. I suspect my brother has something to do with the religious way in which that was implemented.” _Most like._ The Dornish prince had taken Viserys from the king and made him his. What greater revenge could there be?

“What did he say when you returned?” she asked, amused by the story. Viserys chuckled as he reminisced, chest vibrating with the action. Her head was underneath his chin, so close that she could feel his warm, even breaths. 

“Nothing,” the prince admitted, “But he smiled in that secret way he does when he is proud. Then, he cleaned and dressed my wound, fondly telling me not to pick fights with men who could squash me underneath their boot whilst taking a piss at the same time.” 

“That does sound like uncle Oberyn,” she giggled, missing the man who was named The Red Viper of Dorne. _I hope we visit again, soon._

“It did give me a nice scar,” he admitted, “Which every lady I came upon grew very fond of.” _Oh. Well, of course he has bedded women, you fool. Countless, by the looks of it._ There was no greater gift in the world than to be young and beautiful. Rhaenys knew that; the Red Keep worshipped beauty as if it was the air they breathed, not knowing it could only take them so far-- for it was only fleeting and temporary, only ever staying long for some. Her mother was an example of those, at least for Rhaenys. She could think of no other woman more beautiful than Queen Elia Martell, whether it be inside or out. 

“I hope it taught you a lesson, as well, idiot,” she whispered, feeling his arms tigthen around her fondly as he inhaled deeply. 

“I have missed your admonishing, spiteful little nicknames, niece,” the prince mumbled and she could hear the tiredness in his voice, “I kept turning around my first year in Dorne, half-expecting to see you there with a wry smile upon your lips, telling me to not be so bloody daft.” 

“You did?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face like a star on a clear eve. 

“I did,” he whispered, voice drowsy with sleep and something mournful, “But you weren’t there.” 

“I am now,” she told him, “And so are you.” 

It was odd how the two of them could comfortably slip into routines that were outdated by six years. But something had changed betwixt the two, something strange that neither could yet name.

**Author's Note:**

> So that was the chapter, don't forget to leave a kudos if you liked it and maybe drop a comment down below :)


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